


Resolution

by vanishedSchism



Category: The Young Elites Series - Marie Lu
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, but what can I say? I didn't get enough of the two of them in the book itself, probably a little more angsty than it deserves to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5666707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishedSchism/pseuds/vanishedSchism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enzo recognizes that calm. Every Dagger could pull on that mask of detachment, the one that disguised their thoughts and strategies and, of course, fear. That mask was what transformed Enzo into the Reaper. It held terror at bay and no one was better at pulling it on than Raffaele. </p>
<p>An imagining of a scene that takes place immediately after the end of The Rose Society. Major spoilers for the second book!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution

Enzo wakes up to the feel of cold stone and the sound of pounding rain. The scene blurs when he sits up too quickly so he doesn’t see Raffaele until his friend's hand is on his shoulder, steadying him. 

“I had to land, the storm got too rough for the balira,” Raffaele says. That explains the cold stone of the cave. As Enzo stares out the mouth at the rain whipping past, he remembers everything that happened. The rainmaker, all the ships, Adelina, fire. 

_Adelina. ___

Adelina, who his life was linked to. Adelina, who tortured Raffaele. Adelina who used him and forced him to burn an entire fleet of ships. 

Dark fury begins to well up in a place he wished didn’t exist. It’s been feeling fuller since he came back. If it fills any more it might just spill over and fill him to the core. Then he’ll truly be linked to Adelina. She lived with this helpless fury, didn’t she? 

It was better not to think of her. He'd meant what he said on the ship, meant it now more than ever. He should have killed her when he had the chance. Her and Sergio.

Why hadn't he? At this point, what were two more splotches of blood on his hands? He looks at his hands, at the scars he'd always been able to hide with gloves. They extended almost to his elbows now, a visual reminder of what he was now. 

He feels despair begin to well up inside him. He can look into the pools of rain spatter outside the cave and see the dark grey waters of Death. They call to him.

“Enzo,” Raffaele says, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looks as beautiful as ever, even with storm tossed hair and dark circles under his eyes. His voice is perfectly calm and steady. Enzo wonders when Raffaele let go of his shoulder. 

“We will have to catch up to the others tomorrow when the storm breaks” Raffaele says with the same calm. No emotion shows on his face and though his posture is loose, it definitely isn’t relaxed. 

Enzo recognizes that calm. Every Dagger could pull on that mask of detachment, the one that disguised their thoughts and strategies and, of course, fear. That mask was what transformed Enzo into the Reaper. It held terror at bay and no one was better at pulling it on than Raffaele. 

The newfound darkness grew in Enzo when he realized why Raffaele was so calm. He was terrified. Enzo terrified Raffaele. And why shouldn’t he? He was the Reaper. He was a creature that was supposed to have no will of his own, a tool that destroyed their entire allied fleet with a gesture. Raffaele would be a fool not to be afraid. 

But that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Raffaele was a master of poise and calm, of hiding behind his masks of the coquettish boy, of the seducer, even of the advisor, but Enzo had always been the one he dropped his masks for. 

There was a time when Raffaele would knock at his door in the middle of the night and when Enzo opened the door he’d come straight in. Sometimes he’d start talking as soon as the door closed, usually silly comments about a client’s dress or looks or sometimes even their energy before he revealed what was really bothering him. Sometimes he walked in and barely spared a glance at Enzo before making for the large bed and sitting on the corner. Enzo would sit on the other side of the bed, giving him space as he breathed or cried or just sat in silence. 

And then, inevitably Raffaele would make a comment about powers. Some new potential he noticed in Gemma, a concern for Lucent, a change in Michel’s strength. They’d both follow that train of thought until there was nothing to say that didn’t relate to powers, to their gifts. 

Raffaele was fascinated by them and he wanted to understand everything, how they worked, what their limits were, how they related to each other. Enzo encouraged him because it was helpful, certainly, to understand their greatest weapons, but also because it made him so happy. Raffaele’s eyes never shines quite like they did when he talked about alignments, the system that he himself developed. 

“I had no idea I could do that,” Enzo says, hoping to coax some of that interest out of his friend, his second, the man who his life should be bound to. “It’s the most energy I’ve ever used at once. I thought I might burn from the inside out."

Raffaele glances at him but doesn’t say anything. It will take more than that to reassure him. When he briefly reunited with the Daggers, they told him everything they knew about his condition. He was dying and he should have been controllable. A puppet with the strength of ten men. 

He tries again, letting his own mask fall, letting his fear show in his voice, his disgust at what he now was and his pride too, the ambition that had always burned within him but was easy to conceal. He exposed himself completely in front of Raffaele, hoping the favor would be returned. 

“I felt her, felt her presence in my head as if she were right there next to me and guiding my hand. She was making the decisions but the power? That was all mine. I burned those ships, every single one. I want to do it again, under my own control."

“Enzo…” Raffaele’s voice is so full of pain that Enzo almost believes Teren came into this cave and ran him through with his sword. 

“I-I can’t.” Raffaele looks away when his voice breaks. “You’re dead. You should be dead,” he tells the floor. 

“You’re right.” That gets Raffaele’s attention. “I should be dead. But I’m not.” Maybe it would be better if he were. Maybe he should devote the rest of his life to hunting down and killing Adelina so he can rest. Except he wants this. He wants his life and he wants his throne.

“I’m here to stay.” he says. For now. He can feel the pull of Moritas, of his rightful Death. He would be a fool not to acknowledge that. Enzo may be many things, but he was done being a fool. 

Raffaele slowly nods. Now it’s the acting leader of the Daggers he sits next to. “We will need to regroup,” he says, “strengthen our numbers before we can strike back.” 

Enzo holds out his hand and Raffaele takes it. Their oath remains strong. The Dagger Society will continue.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, this is really short. Oh well, I wrote it at the beach. I just wanted to explore these characters a bit. 
> 
> I'm considering continuing this with basically a number of short fics where the Dagger Society goes out and tries to recruit new Elites, mostly because I really love the way powers work in this setting. Let me know if that's something you'd be interested in?


End file.
